


Date Night

by Induurisa



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Basically Scott and Jean have a date night and are cute together because I'm garbage, Date Night, Dinner, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Modern Era, One Shot, Pre-Marriage, Restaurants, light humor, night out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 08:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19808374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Induurisa/pseuds/Induurisa
Summary: Scott and Jean have dinner together and make small talk. Scott is slightly awkward. Jean is amused.





	Date Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a tie-in short story for a condensed multiverse Marvel RP and edited to make more sense without the whole context.
> 
> (For some context, though, the RP involves a hero group chat. Scott hasn't proposed to Jean, but they've been in an established relationship for some years. Characters are a mish-mash of their comic, TV, and movie selves. The Phoenix/Dark Phoenix saga has occurred, but think the '90s cartoon version of it where it's the happy ending and everyone goes home fine at the end.)

I slip my phone into my pocket after putting it on “Do not disturb” for the evening, but even as I put it away, I see notifications popping up from the group chat, blinking onto the screen silently. Ignoring them, I smooth down my coat and pick up the menu at the table for two I’d reserved, meeting Jean’s eyes.

“Noisy,” I comment off-handedly, and grin. She smiles back at me, shaking her head slightly.

“From what I’ve seen, it’s not too different from the Institute’s GroupMe chat,” she says, and I tilt my head back with a groan, letting the menu fall onto the edge of the table.

“Do _not_ remind me about that. When one of the technopath kids hacked it and—”

“Scott, even you have to admit it was amusing,” Jean chuckles, tenting her fingers as she rests her elbows on the table. God, she’s so beautiful. Her eyes and her hair, and her lips… Wow. And that’s not even mentioning the dress—

< _Focus, Scott. >_

Oops.

_I am focusing. On you._

_ <Just because I can read your mind doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy conversation. Besides, what would the rest of these people think if they saw a couple just staring at each other over dinner silently for an hour or two, hm?>_

_Fair point._

“It was only amusing when Logan’s icon was changed,” I reply to her last statement. “And when everything he typed was converted into… grunts and growls, for lack of a better term.” I smirk, and Jean tilts her head, smiling back at me. I swear, this woman just makes me melt when she looks at me. I can still hardly think straight, even after years of growing up together in the mansion and being on the team.

“You did like that, didn’t you?”

“It’s always funny to see Logan pissed at one of the kids. He acts all angry, but I know he was a little impressed. I’ll admit that I was, too.” I lift my menu again and scan the contents, all tinged red, as usual. The text doesn’t stand out very well—it seems to have faded, or maybe it was printed that way—and I have to squint a little to read it. Jean follows my suit and lifts her own menu. It doesn’t take her long to decide what she wants, and she lowers it quickly.

As I’m still reading it, our waiter comes over to our table and asks what we want for drinks. Jean orders a bottle of red wine, which I’m fine with. She knows my tastes better than I do, sometimes. For some reason, I think, there always seems to be something red about those tastes. Red wine. Jean’s red hair… weird.

_< Stay away from the seafood, Scott.>_

_Why? You pick something up?_

_ <Guy behind you a bit and to your left is being loud in his head about it. So is the woman behind me and to your left. And a few others.>_

_So no seafood. Got it._

“Find something you like?” I break the silence after our waiter goes to fetch our wine, nodding to Jean across the candlelit table. Wow, the way the light plays on her hair… It makes it look like it’s on fire. _Phoenix._ I push the thought away hurriedly, away from the surface thoughts that Jean easily accesses and behind the mental barriers Charles taught me how to construct. Not now. Not the thought during a perfect night out.

“I think I’m going to go with the filet mignon. Can’t go wrong with that,” Jean says with a shrug, adjusting her menu where it lies on the table in front of her. She’s wearing the bracelet I gave her for her birthday last year, I notice. Coral beads. Ororo helped me pick it out, since I couldn’t see the exact color. And because I’m lost when it comes to finding jewelry for women. And men, come to think of it. Anything involved with fashion.

“I might go with that, too,” I say, abandoning my squinting at the menu’s text and laying it on the table in front of me. My eyes hurt from the strain. A common issue, unfortunately. “Hopefully this place stands up to the reviews I read about it. And Hank’s recommendation.”

“ _Hank_ told you about this place?” Jean asks, as our waiter returns with the wine. We pause our conversation as we thank him, watching him pour the wine into our glasses. He takes our orders before giving a shallow bow and leaving us once more. It’s a fancy place. Definitely going to put a dent in my personal budget, but it’s not often we get to go out to a place like this. Worth it.

“Hank did tell me about it, yes. Of course, it’s been years since he’s been, but… The reviews I read looked like it still holds up. I’ll be sure to blame him if it ends up being horrible, though,” I say with a wink. It’s only because of our telepathic link that she knows about the wink. Can’t do that with anyone else but her, because of the shades.

“Pfft, yeah. At least it’s better than _Logan’s_ recommendation back in Charleston,” Jean says, and I roll my eyes behind my glasses, exhaling out my nose.

“Oh, yeah. ‘I’m sure it’s still open, Summers.’ ‘Best beer for miles around, Jeannie.’ What a waste. A literal hole in the wall was what we got,” I say with a smile and a shake of my head. Of course, Logan had recommended a tavern that was apparently the best around in the 1920s, but had been shut down for decades.

“You thought he’d pranked you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, anyway. But nope. At least Charleston had more to offer than that wreck of a place. Bigotry, for one,” I take my wine glass and hold it up as I speak, taking a sip. Jean sighs. Maybe not the best date night conversation, I’m realizing. Dammit.

“You have to admit that the history was amazing to experience there. And the culture. It wasn’t all bad, Scott. No place is.”

“Yeah, well. No place is perfect, either. And sometimes those imperfections are glaringly obvious. Involving literal glaring, too,” I continue. _Stupid_.

“But you did have fun. You told me you did. And I don’t take you for much of a liar, Scott…” Jean says, sipping her own wine. It’s a good vintage.

“I _did_ have fun. Yeah. But some of it was spoiled. It just pisses me off, Jean. You know that,” I say. She scoffs at me, amused.

With impeccable timing, our appetizer arrives. Two salads, caesar. Our waiter asks us if we have any other requests, and we tell him that no, everything is just perfect. He nods to us both politely, his gaze lingering on my glasses, and then leaves.

_Surprised he hasn’t made a snide comment about my shades. He was thinking it though, wasn’t he?_

_ <Be patient, Scott. It’s not like he even knows you’re a mutant with the eye condition cover story.>_

_Yeah, yeah._

That’s what we’d told the haughty tuxedo’d man who’d wrinkled his nose at us as we waited to be seated in the front of the restaurant. The man who’d said, loudly, “This is a _respectable_ establishment. Why don’t you show some _respect_ and lose the shades, young man. Just like young people to think wearing sunglasses indoors is ‘cool’. Shame!”

Jean had quieted me before I could even speak with a thought before saying just as loudly that I had an eye condition, and that maybe the one who needed to show respect here was him. Thankfully, that seemed to fluster him and made him apologize, but now everyone was looking at us. Staring. I hate it when people stare. And I’m not even the worst off among my fellow mutants.

“Salad is good,” Jean says, stabbing at a few leaves and taking another bite. I shake my head of my thoughts, knowing that she had probably picked up on hints of it as I dig into my own appetizer. It is a good salad.

“Yep,” I say after swallowing, and have another sip of the wine. Conversation, Scott. Happy conversation. Right. “So, how do you feel about the spring semester coming to a close, huh? Another bunch of kids graduating and either going their own ways or entering the undergrad program?” I raise an eyebrow, inviting her to reply after she finishes chewing.

“Oh, I’m ecstatic. I can’t wait to see what these ones are going to do with their lives, however they choose to spend them. And two of them are getting married in the fall already, can you believe it?” Jean says with a smile, and I nearly choke on my salad as I’m taking another bite. _Marriage._

“Y-yeah. Kids, right? Only eighteen and sure that they’ve found the one,” I laugh it off, hoping that it disguises my reaction. As if. She narrows her eyes slightly, one side of her mouth cocking upward in a grin.

“It’s not so strange. You and I knew that we found the one when we were still students of Xavier’s, too, didn’t we? When was that, hm?” Jean has another sip of wine. Her glass is half empty.

“Uh… a long time ago,” I say. “What, high school age? Younger? I loved you from the moment I saw you, Jean. When Charles took us in and I saw you in the halls of the mansion…”

“And I could still barely control my powers. Your thoughts were so _loud,_ Scott,” Jean laughs, before realizing what she’d said aloud might be very strange coming from a normal human being. Thankfully, no one seems to have heard us. My gaze flicks to the people around us, and no weird glances. I relax more when I see Jean relax in front of me, and we both let out a nervous chuckle at the same time.

_And you tell_ me _that I have the big mouth._

_ <Shut up. It was in the moment.>_

“In my defense, you’ve always looked like an angel,” I say, moving along the conversation with hardly a beat of hesitation. We’ve gotten used to carrying on two conversations at once. Years of practice do that. One in our heads, and another through our voices.

“Well, thank you, Scott. You’re not so bad yourself. Not quite on Warren’s level, but…” she trails off with a knowing smile, and I roll my eyes for the second time tonight.

“Pfft. Yeah, well. Not all of us are so well-endowed. I mean. You know what I mean. Not that! The… the other thing.” I feel my cheeks burn, but Jean only lets out a bell-like laugh.

“I know what you mean, Scott. I also know exactly how… well-endowed you are,” she says, and her smile just makes me melt more.

“Jean! We’re in _public!_ ” I hiss through my teeth, trying to avoid smiling back. It’s hard not to smile back at her. It’s contagious. She only laughs again before scooping up another mouthful of salad.

“You don’t know what I’m referring to! I’m innocent!” Jean says through a helping of lettuce leaves, and I sigh, pushing a hand through my hair and adjusting my glasses.

“Yes, I’m sure. _Totally_ innocent.”

“Maybe I should get an account on that app and join the group chat. I’d love more opportunities to embarrass you.”

I groan, tipping more wine into my glass and shaking my head.

“You’ve done enough already, helping Bobby steal my phone today. You know what he sent to the entire chat?”

“I do.”

“Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

“I do.”

“It was awful!” I say, sighing again as Jean just laughs brightly.

“That’s the point, Scott. Besides, it’s not like it was _my_ idea what to type. That was all Bobby.”

“Unfortunately…” I mutter under my breath. It hadn’t been the first time she’d helped him with pranking me, either. Also unfortunately.

“Oh, shush. It was all in good fun.”

“I’m only forgiving you because I love you,” I say, pursing my lips and stabbing my fork into a stack of leaves in my salad.

“I love you, too. And that’s why I poke fun at you sometimes, Scott. Lighten up a little, hm? You’re always so stiff when you meet other people,” Jean says. I shrug.

“Well, it’s meeting people for work. I try to be composed. Things at the mansion have gotten more casual over the years. Almost _too_ casual sometimes—”

“Scott…”

“—so I’ve tried to rein it in a bit. Especially since my college days. I can’t let off steam like I used to back in the day. I have a school to help run, and a team to lead. I have to command _respect._ ”

“You can do that and still have a sense of humor. You’ve read books by dozens of great leaders. You should know that.”

“I _do_ have a sense of humor. I’m funny. I just know when to be serious. That just happens to be more often than not these days, Jean.” She stares at me from across the table and blinks slowly at me. Ah. The sarcastic blink. I’m well-acquainted with it.

“The day anyone calls you _funny,_ Scott, is the day I’ll stop helping Bobby pull pranks on you,” she says, and shakes her head with a slight smile as she digs back into her salad. I let out heavy sigh, taking another drink of wine.

“I _can_ be funny,” I mutter after swallowing, barely audible. But Jean hears, as she always does, and smirks.

“Good luck with that one, Scott.”

“I _can_ be…”

“Eat your salad, Scott.”

“Alright, alright.”

* * *

The rest of the evening passes without incident, and as it turns out, the restaurant does a much better job with their filet mignon than they do with their seafood. It was excellent. The night ends with me driving us both home in my car, gunning it on the empty rural roads that lead to the secluded mansion, windows down. I see Jean’s hair whipping in the wind, and see her eyes flutter closed as she breathes in, and I love her more than anything in the universe.

I finally pull into the garage, and before we go inside, I pull her into a kiss, and it turns into more. We don’t have to say anything.

We put a dent in my car’s hood, though. That’ll give me something to work on tomorrow.

And then when we finally call it a night, we go to our own rooms in the mansion (right next to each other), and I pull out my phone as I collapse onto my bed to check the notifications. Well. I seem to have missed quite a lot.


End file.
